by Joanna Lloyd
“No, this is wonderful news. You must use every resource you have. He must be stopped, and I will help in any way I can,” said Electra, clenching Susanna’s wrist.
Susanna slapped the table decisively. “The despicable cad will pay, and we will not stop until he does.”
“Absolutely. Let the thieving scoundrel rot in Newgate.”
Chapter Seventeen
The two women eyed each other suspiciously. Electra knew Molly Preston held a place of importance in the heart of the man she loved and would wager Molly was thinking the same about her.
They sat upstairs in the library at Riverside with paper, pens, and various books laid out on William’s desk. Electra had given Molly a couple of days to settle in at Riverside before she began her tutoring.
“Perhaps you could show me what you know. Then I will have a place to start,” said Electra.
Molly Preston sat ramrod straight on the hard-backed chair. “You ain’t testin’ me, is you mum? You know, so as to make me look stupid like?”
“Of course not,” retorted Electra. “What makes you think I would do that?”
“Well, you might be jealous, seein’ as how yer husband looks out for me an’ all.”
The girl wasn’t stupid. That was exactly how Electra felt from the first moment she discovered her husband’s relationship with the girl. Foolishly, Electra thought she had made an excellent job of hiding this from Molly. Despite the unusual situation, she had a sneaking admiration for the young woman. Molly’s fervent desire for knowledge had given her the courage to risk reprisal from a potentially jealous wife. Further, she refused to cower before Electra, or to pretend things were not as they seemed.
Electra bit her lip, not quite stifling a grin and the tension dissolved between them. “I think I might enjoy tutoring you, Molly.” She felt her shoulders relax. She had not admitted to William how anxious she had been since agreeing to take on Molly Preston but she found she actually liked the girl.
“An’ you might not be too bad yerself, mum. Where’s that paper you wanted me to write on then?” said Molly, her young eyes twinkling.
• • •
After separating the new ram from the ewes, William spent time with Callum and Shelagh, discussing farm matters. It still amused him, after all this time, to see Shelagh working beside the men. Both he and Callum valued her input and he found he had more topics than usual to discuss with the couple this morning. If he was honest with himself, he was also delaying his return to the house.
Shelagh ducked through the gate as Callum closed off the paddock. “Ye seem a bit distracted this morning, Will. I hope all is well up at the house, aye?”
He rubbed his face and squinted up into the sun. “You’ll think I’m crazy, Shelagh, but I asked Electra to teach Molly Preston about keeping books of account. They started this morning and my imagination has been running wild with terrible scenarios.”
Callum snorted and put a hand on William’s shoulder. “Ye’re a braw lad, Will. I’d pay to be in the room when those two lock horns.”
“Perhaps they’ll get on.”
“Aye, as long as there’s no’ the jealousy over your relationship with each,” said Shelagh.
“Goddamn. Why do females have to be so complicated?” asked William.
Callum slapped Shelagh’s backside and, both chuckling at William’s dilemma, they headed across the fields to their cottage.
• • •
With some trepidation, William joined Electra for the midday meal. Molly was nowhere to be seen. Surprisingly, Electra seemed quite calm and made no reference to the girl; instead, inquiring of his morning’s activities. Now he had to decide whether he would be the one to raise the subject of Molly, or just let it lie.
“Er, how did your morning go?” A general question could do no harm.
“Yes, quite passable. Mmm, this soup is delicious. I wonder what Shi Liang has put in it this time?”
William admitted defeat. “All right, tell me the worst. How did you go with Molly?”
She laughed, obviously aware he had spent the morning plagued by anxiety. “You can stop worrying. We found we actually quite liked each other,” she said, alleviating his concern.
“You are an evil woman. You knew how guilty I was feeling about putting you in this position and, yet, you let me suffer.”
“Exactly. You deserved to suffer. Molly would have quite happily eaten me for dinner if I hadn’t backed down first. Nothing daunts the girl.” She reached for a slice of bread and looked at him thoughtfully. “I think that’s what I like about her.”
William reached for her hand and entwined his fingers through hers. “Would you like me to tell you what I like about you, Mrs. Radcliffe?” Before she could respond he continued, “No, better still, let me show you.” He cupped her chin in his hand and leaned over until his lips gently brushed hers. Her eyes closed and she drew him toward her, eager for a more satisfying kiss.
“Hmphm.”
Electra sprang away as Shi Liang entered the room. William leaned back in his chair and glanced over at the cook. He held a tray containing a letter.
“Solly for disturbing tasty meal,” he said, giggling, “but velly important letter come for Master. I bring straight away.” He pushed the letter in front of William and, still giggling, shuffled out of the room.
William sighed, as he dropped Electra’s hand and reached for the letter. His blood ran cold and the breath caught in his throat as, appalled, he recognised the writing.
“What is it, Will? What’s wrong?”
Without responding, he pushed his chair back, snatched the letter out of the tray and left the room. He cringed at his lapse of manners toward Electra. He should have stopped to explain but his tongue would not move. As he climbed the stairs, he heard Electra’s chair scrape across the floor and the loud slam of the French door as she retreated to the gardens.
His hands trembled as he inserted the silver letter opener into the envelope and ripped through the seal. A contact address had been forwarded to his father’s solicitor when he settled in Parramatta in case of emergency but this was not from the solicitor. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier at her audacity in contacting him or at his own emotional reaction. But it was the contents of the letter that dealt him the greatest blow.
The Earl of Canby had been killed in a carriage accident. Charlotte wrote she was desperately grief stricken and required William’s comfort and presence to attend to the many arrangements necessary. She begged his forgiveness for her actions and said there were urgent matters she must discuss with him in person.
He screwed the letter into a ball and threw it across the room. If only he could discard his feelings as easily.
• • •
As Electra bent to pick a bug from the stem of a rose, she heard horse’s hooves galloping from the stable toward the west paddock. She picked up her skirts and ran around the side of the house to see William’s grey stallion disappearing into the distance. A heaviness, like a stone, dropped to the pit of her stomach as she realised there was still so much he couldn’t share with her. Perhaps if she knew what had upset him, she could help.
The letter was the key.
Moments later, she hurried up the staircase toward his study. Her heart pounded, childlike in her fear of discovery. There was nothing on the desk. As her eyes scanned the room she saw a small, scrunched ball of paper in the corner. Checking to ensure no servants were nearby, she picked it up and smoothed out the creases.
She fell heavily into William’s leather chair, the letter gripped in her left hand. It was not possible to give him comfort, as she desperately wished, without revealing her knowledge of the letter’s contents. And her stomach churned with the fear that he would respond to Charlotte’s summons. Although William insisted he despised his father and cared not whether he lived or died, she now knew her husband for a man of compassion and sensitivity. He would be grieving for the father he remembered as a child, she was sure of it.
But what were his thoughts of Charlotte?
• • •
William returned in time for dinner but could not bring himself to make light dinner conversation. He was acutely aware of Electra sitting opposite him, waiting.
“Will, please don’t lock me out. You have had bad news, haven’t you? Tell me, my love, I am your wife.”
He regarded her through the shadows of his grief. It had been a shock to discover the strength of feeling at the news of his father’s death. But he had to tell her. She was right, she had a right to know. Only, telling her made Charlotte real again and he feared a fresh eruption of the pain if he did not keep her shut away.
“The letter is from my father’s wife.” It was still hard to say her name. “My father has been killed in a carriage accident and his wife wishes me to sail for England immediately.” He took a deep breath and sat straight in the chair, determined not to show emotion.
“And will you go, William?”
Electra waited, her beautiful eyes filled with sadness and something else. Was it fear? He swallowed and reached for her hand. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
A solitary tear slid down her cheek, leaving a small dark spot on the bodice of her gown. She brushed it quickly away, as if it had nothing to do with her.
“Shall I be honest?”
He nodded, tensed himself for her comments.
“I know that, despite the situation between you and your father, you will still grieve the loss and knowing you, you will feel responsibility toward his — er, wife. Those are the qualities I admire.” He shifted in his chair, guilt churning his stomach at the compliment. “It’s just, I finally feel like we are husband and wife. Silly, I know, but I have a sense of dread that if you go, I will lose you.” She put her hand up to stop his protestations. “However, I will support whatever decision you make and live with the consequences. Because I know you must do what you think is right.”
William did not speak as he absorbed her words. If only there had been no letter. He could continue to live in blissful ignorance. With Electra by his side, in this faraway land, the memory of Canby Castle and its inhabitants a distant memory. But with his feelings for Electra so new and untested, he was unsure how he would react in Charlotte’s presence.
“I think perhaps I won’t go. Charlotte — ” he cleared his throat, “has never needed anyone’s help before. My father would have left her and the child well provided for, there is no reason for me to return.”
“Except for the fact you are now the Earl of Canby,” said Electra. When he didn’t answer, she excused herself from the table and went out to the veranda.
William pushed back his chair and left the house through the back door.
• • •
The night was hot and sticky. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she climbed the stairs some hours later. William had still not returned and Electra stood on the landing, unsure of which bedroom to enter. If she retreated to her own, he may not come for her. The contents of the letter had shaken her, but worse was William’s reaction. Admittedly, the news of his father would have been a shock but the contact from Charlotte certainly unsettled him. Her hand was on her own doorknob when she took a deep breath, spun around and, hurrying down the hall, went into William’s room.
Right, now what? Should she deposit herself in his bed and sit waiting for him? Where was he? Questions churned around in her head until, catching sight of the bottle of French brandy in the corner, she stopped thinking. Instead, she poured a generous portion of the dusky liquid into a glass and held it to the light. This seemed to solve men’s problems, why not hers? The liquor made her cough as she gulped a mouthful. Whatever did he like about this? The second and third swallow took her breath but by the fourth, it seemed to slide down more easily. Goodness, the glass was already empty.
She refilled it.
But something was wrong. Every time she looked at the glass, it was empty again. And where had the bed gone? Oh, there it is, she giggled. If I can just make it over there …
• • •
The whisky burnt his throat as he tossed it back. “Damn it all, Callum. What am I to do? She’s right, there is no other male heir. I am now the Earl.”
William leaned back in the overstuffed chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. Callum had welcomed him without question when he barged into the small cottage with a bottle of whisky in his hand and his lips tight with anger. And he had waited patiently until William was ready to talk.
“Weel laddie, ye canna ignore your obligations as the Earl o’ Canby. But ye could mebbe delay your trip for a bit, aye? A letter with instructions to the Lady Canby and your solicitor wouldna be a bad start, do ye no’ think?” asked Callum, scratching his bushy beard.
“Yes, a letter will have to be written. Perhaps if I delay long enough, Electra will be free to accompany me.”
“Ye’ll be taking her for the right reasons, I hope,” said Callum, narrowing his eyes at his friend.
William put down his glass and looked steadily at Callum. “She’s worth ten of Charlotte, Callum and I’m not such a coward as to use her for my protection.”
“Fair enough, lad. Point taken.”
Reaching for the bottle, William filled his glass and reached over to fill Callum’s. Lifting the glass in a salute he said, “Let’s drink a toast to the late Earl of Canby. May his black heart rest in peace. And now I’m going to get filthy, rotten drunk.” He downed the contents of the glass in one gulp then refilled it.
William looked over at Callum, slumped in his chair. Neither had spoken for some time. If he didn’t move now, he would never make it back to the house. He threw down the last drop in his glass and stood, lurching against the table.
Shelagh, at the kitchen table mending, ran to steady him. She grabbed his arms and pushed him upright. He struggled to keep his eyes open. “Thank you, lovely Shelagh.” He tried to cup her chin but his arm wouldn’t cooperate and he missed.
Shelagh laughed and shook her head as she put her hand against his chest to stop him lurching forward again. “Ah, Will, me love, ye’re a bonnie lad, even when ye’re blutered and morbid from the grief.” She glanced over at her semiconscious husband. “Now get ye to your bed, Will, while I try to get his lordship to his.”
William straightened up and squared his shoulders. He bent down and planted a kiss on her blushing cheek, made her a mock salute and swayed off into the muggy night.
As he navigated the dark obstacles in his path, William wondered what lasting damage his behaviour over the letter had done to his relationship with Electra. He cursed his stupidity, recalling the passionate night and morning they had spent together. What possessed him to continually sabotage his marriage? Hold that thought, he instructed his meandering brain. He noticed his body was certainly holding the memory of her passionate responses. God, all he wanted now was to crawl into bed beside her soft, scented body and hold her. He hauled himself up the stairs and threw his bedroom door open.
His wife lay inert across the bed.
He stumbled to the bed. “Electra! Electra, are you all right?”
“Wha-ooh, can’t move,” she mumbled as she tried to lift her head and fell back on the bed.
Although William was in an advanced state of inebriation himself, he could still recognise it in his wife. He looked groggily over at the brandy bottle and seeing the level had dropped dramatically, knew the source of her stupor. He plopped onto the bed, kicked off his shoes, and threw his coat onto the chair. A smile played across his lips. William had not expected to find her in his bedroom when he returned. But here she was, quite drunk, but here all the same. He sucked in a breath, as his eyes travelled down her supine body.
Her skirt had hiked up, displaying her long, shapely legs and her arm was flung across his pillow. The candle flickered, accentuating the gold lights in her hair as it curled haphazardly across her face and shoulders. He lifted the thick mass of curls off her face and stroked her soft, downy che
ek. Her lips curled in a slight smile as her warm breath caressed his fingers.
At least the laces on her bodice were easy to undo. She struggled to push him away as he dragged the dress up over her head and then loosened the corsets. Those he threw across the room, leaving her in her shift. After removing his own clothes, he pulled the light cover over them both and with his arm firmly around her waist, dragged her into the curve of his body. All thoughts of Charlotte had vanished the minute he saw his wife strewn across his bed. Now with her soft body curled into his, he felt the agony of wanting her again.
With one hand holding her firmly against him, he moved the other hand to her calf. Stroking her silky legs, he rucked the shift up until it was above her waist. His hands slid between her thighs, gently stroking until she moaned and wriggled back against him.
“Tell me to stop my sweet, and I will,” he whispered into her hair.
“No, no please, don’t stop,” she gasped, as he delved again.
“Hmm, so you have decided to wake up, have you?”
“You … there’s … no choice,” she said, pressing back against the impatient hardness of him. Her head may have been befuddled but her body was opening to his caresses like a flower to the sun. She jerked in surprise at the pleasure, and then whimpered, hungry for more.
He chuckled, feeling her legs part in invitation. The alcohol had dulled his mind, but his body was moving with animal instinct. As he stroked her moist heat, he could hear her breathing faster, emitting small moans. Desperate to be inside her, he rolled her roughly onto her back and, as he climbed over her, her hands reached for him, pulling his full weight onto her. Her hands were clutching his buttocks pushing him urgently into her, crying out as he entered. He was not gentle as he sucked on her nipple, moving up to kiss her mouth hungrily, and back to suckle. She begged him to stop, and then begged for more, all her inhibitions dulled by the alcohol.